


Eight Mirrors

by FishPrincess



Series: HSWC 2014 Bonus Round 1 [13]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Mild Language, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2209350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishPrincess/pseuds/FishPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember when Vriska awkwardly hung out with different dream bubble versions of herself? For HSWC Bonus Round 1. A response to a prompt by acerbicTomes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartsinhay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsinhay/gifts).



I no longer question reality after being dead for so long, but everything in this place is just as I remember.

My hand runs against cold walls as I descend to see if she is still here, preserved in memory alone. None of us know if our deceased guardians are nothing more than a tangible hologram, or if their souls remain trapped here with us. I have needed this time alone, and despite our rough relationship, part of me still naively believes that a sense of home will calm my constantly racing nerves.

Liquid drips from unknown surfaces, perhaps the drool and venom from her fangs. The dampness is nearly breathable, and it is so convincing that I know I would have fallen for it when I first arrived to my fate. With no one beside me, I am free to do as I please without putting on an elaborate show.

She is no longer here. The edge of this bubble ends exactly where her web begins, and even still, I discover that I am not alone. Up ahead, on the rough pathway, is a wiggler. Her horns match mine, her hair shorter but still long. Next to her is a dead troll, but the moment she turns around, the moment her innocent, eight-eyed gaze locks with mine, the corpse vanishes.

Her are the same as the ones I wear, albeit much smaller. In fact, these ones are just a bit too big for her small frame. I look straight at myself as a young girl, and I am not sure whether to be proud or repulsed. Given someone else’s presence, I would take this opportunity to flaunt her around and tell her grandiose tales of my accomplishments.

Now, it’s only me.

Her eyes widen behind thin rimmed glasses, fangs enhanced by a tiny smile.

“You’re me,” she says, her voice a squeak compared to mine.

I hesitate, if only to look her over a few times. My mouth opens, but nothing leaves. Seeing her spawns a nausea within my stomach. Everything about her tells of her excitement, but with my pride comes an intense amount of shame.

“Yeah, thanks, little miss obvious.”

She laughs loudly, giggling with her entire body. When she calms down, she approaches me until she’s so close that she has no choice but to tilt her head slightly to see me.

“I look so cool when I’m grown up!” she says, clenching her fists together. “I’m so tall! And pretty!”

This close, I can see how disheveled she is, how her eyes are too big for her glasses, how her hair is messy and unkempt, and how she hasn’t yet grown into her fangs.

“You have no idea. What are you doing here, anyway? Besides standing here looking like a dumbass?”

She shifts her feet around in place, constantly moving as she speaks.

“Well, I was going to feed her,” she points to the sandy desert that takes the place of where our caretaker – hah, right – used to be. “But then I guess I forgot I was dead? It doesn’t matter anymore, because I get to talk to a super awesome older me right now! What kinda things did I grow up to do? Tell me! I bet they were so cool!”

The sickness grows, and she stares at me with such an incredible amount of admiration, the kind I have always desired and craved from my peers but never received. Now, it only makes me feel empty, and it fills me with a guilt that I refuse to acknowledge at this present point in time.

“I have better things to do. Maybe you should have avoided dying in the first place to see for yourself.”

Her expression fades slightly, and then she pulls on my jacket. “You gotta tell me! Please!”

Another voice echoes out from behind me, this one closest to my own. I turn to see another me, this one almost exactly identical to who I am now. Her eyes are white, but her face is crinkled in a bitter scowl.

“Are you really not going to tell her? Jeez, cut the girl some fucking slack.”

She’s sitting on one of the lower steps down here, her back against the wall in a bored fashion.

“So we grow up to be terrible trolls, the worst there is, how hard is that to say?”

The little one next to me hops in anticipation. “Really? Like terribly awesome?”

Other Vriska rolls her dead eyes, the movement of her eyelids giving away her disdain.

“That would have been better than this, wouldn’t it? I can’t believe I seriously have to be the one of us to tell her.”

I stare at her.

“Fine.” Her attention shifts to the wiggler, who is anxiously awaiting to hear our let-down of a story. “Well, you become a little shit, basically. Like, think of all the friends you had when you died, most of them you trick into getting themselves killed so you can feed them to your lusus. You know that thing you can do with your mind? Yeah, how you can make people do what you want them to? You abuse the hell out of that to get back at people who challenge you. You personally kill some of your friends, even some without the intention of feeding them to your lusus. The friendships you do have, the ones with the crazy idiots that actually still want to be friends with you, well, you ruin them. All of them. You’re supposed to be tough, right? So it’s not a big deal if some lives are taken in the process. But it never feels good to you, you don’t get used to it. You do it anyway to always have the upper hand.”

One glance down at the little Serket below, and her expression is fading, fast. Disappointment doesn’t even begin to describe how distraught she’s becoming.

“You become obsessed with revenge. No matter what, you always have the last word. You hurt the people you call your friends. Mentally, physically, beyond any hope of repair. In the middle of your destroyed friendships, you make a new one with a human boy, an alien from another universe. You like him, he likes you. And for once, it looks like you’re going to change your tune. Finally, right? But you haven’t learned just yet, and so you die one of two ways. Me, I died early because I never talked to my Scourge Sister before going to kill Jack Noir, and he killed me. Her, though.”

She pauses to point at me, shaking her head. “She banked too hard on luck and got stabbed by the only one that really stuck around.”

“Will you shut up?” I say, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, feeling my hands begin to tremble. There are tears in little Vriska’s eyes, and she looks up at me for answers, like I’m supposed to tell her something different. I can’t say it to her face.

“We dug our own hole,” the other Vriska says. “We dug our own hole when deep down, we knew there was no treasure there, and there would never be.”

Her voice unleashes my steadily growing anger, and I raise my voice to a shout. “Shut the fuck up!”

My words echo loudly and repeat a few times before fading out to a near silence. I close my eyes only to open them again, and I am the last one remaining. The other two are gone as if they have never been here to begin with. And with nothing to lose and nothing to show, I ascend up the stairs for the final time.

And I am never coming back again.


End file.
